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“Come. Ewan, you can take off.” Hand shifting to encircle my wrist, Malcolm tugged me after him and I barely had a chance to wave goodbye to Ewan before we were into the pleasant afternoon sun. Neither of us spoke as we rounded the building, stopping beside a door I now knew led to his home.“Wait here.”
I didn’t, of course. Both of the dogs and I trailed him into his very tiny but charming home. There was stuff everywhere, but it didn’t feel cluttered. Compact kitchen that gave way to a cosy sitting area, complete with a log burner I could picture Boy curled up before. Giant television that seemed to be a staple in any bachelor’s home. I spared a glance to the humongous bed in the furthest point of the room, only long enough to see the dark navy sheets were neatly made. I hastily turned my attention then to the wood shelving taking up almost an entire wall, stuffed full of books and DVDs. I didn’t know people still collected DVDs. Only Malcolm’s beleaguered sigh stopped me from inspecting every one of them.
Rummaging through a drawer, he nodded to a chair at the small dining table.“You might as well sit as you already invited yourself in.”
“This is a really cute space,” I said, perching on the rickety chair.
Grunt.
“How long have you lived here?”
“Long enough.”
“Long enough for what?”
“Just—long enough.” He slammed the drawer shut, a small first aid kit in his hand.“Put your hand on the table.” I complied, biting my lip to hold back a laugh. I might’ve been the one with the splinter but he was like a bear with a thorn in his paw. Malcolm took the chair opposite. So narrow was the table, his knees knocked against mine. Unzipping the bag, he took out several small items, an alcohol wipe and a plaster.“If you hurt yourself, you need to say something right away. When you work with your body, you have to take care of it. It’s your most important tool.”
Too distracted by the feel of his leg against mine, it took me a moment to notice the pair of wickedly sharp tweezers. Any fun I’d been having shrivelled up and died at the sight of them.
My fingers curled in on themselves and I started to rise.“You know… I can totally take care of this myself. You probably have better things to do.”
I didn’t get very far. His hot flesh caught mine and my arse hit the seat.“Of course I’m going to take care of it, April. Now stop being a baby.”
I wasn’t sure if it was the fact he’d called me April and not“princess,” or his insinuation that I was scared that made me relent. But when he cupped my palm in his much bigger one, bent in close and raised those tweezers, I looked away. They dug in with a sharp pinch.“Ahh—”
“You’re fine.”
I tugged instinctively and he held me tighter.“Ouch! That stings—”
“It wouldn’t sting if you stopped wriggling—”
“Do you have press so hard—”
“Keep still.”
“—ahhh!”
“Got it!” He held the huge splinter caught between the prongs triumphantly.“See, it’s tiny, nothing to worry about.”
“Nothing to worry about? You nearly removed my entire finger!”
I caught the barest hint of a crooked smirk on those full lips.“Please, enough of the drama, princess.”
He peeled open the alcohol wipe and slathered it across my skin, causing another shout of protest. He actually laughed that time.Laughed. Well, it wasn’t a laugh, more of a loud exhale, like an angry rhino. But I was taking it. A win was a bloody win. He peeled open a plaster and wrapped it around my injured finger.
“There. You’ll live to see another day.” He smoothed it down one final time and set about packing away the first aid kit when I finally got a look at the bandage. It was a baby-pink princess plaster. And I could not resist.
“Who knew you were such a big Disney fan?”
His cheeks turned pink and his fingers stilled.“I look after my nieces once a week.”
“Right.”
“I do! Every Friday afternoon.”
With what I knew was a shit-eating grin, I gave his shoulder a pat.“Thanks for taking care of me.”
“Making sure you don’t lose a finger from your own carelessness isn’t taking care of you.” The frown was back in full force.
